


Kitten

by yubble



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Character Death, Fights, Gun Violence, Home Invasion, Horror, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV First Person, Scary, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 12:49:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14618952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yubble/pseuds/yubble
Summary: This is an original work I did for a Fictional Writing Workshop I took this semester in college. This was my first draft, although i may re-upload with my second draft after my exams are finished. All character depictions and series of events are original and thought up by myself. We had a maximum limit of 4,000 words.





	Kitten

 

Kitten

I pulled up into my usual spot in the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath my tires as they came to a halt in front of my house. It was well past the time I typically got home, and the sun had already disappeared behind the endless fir trees. Work had been depleting, and my back ached in protest as I slung my briefcase over my shoulder and got out of my car. As I made my way to the front door, I instinctively drew my arms across my chest. Fall was coming soon, and the darkness that grew from the ascending night was accompanied by a brisk wind. I wasted no time shoving my key into the lock and retreating inside my warm abode.  

Somewhere between the endless meetings and the long drive home, my phone had died. I flicked on the light in the living room and searched for my charger before hesitating… _Did I leave my keys in the door?_ I shuffled back to the foyer and sure enough, there they were, dangling from the lock of a door left slightly ajar. I snatched them up and slammed the door, flicking the interior latch closed. _How stupid can you be, Nessa?_ I shook my head and returned to my previous task, settling into the couch in anticipation of the revival of my cellular.

Almost immediately after it turned back on, my phone was overloaded with vibrations for missed calls, texts, and voicemails. My head fell back against the edge of the couch and a deep sigh escaped my chest. I closed my heavy as lead eyelids for a moment, wishing to melt into the plush blue fabric of the cushion beneath me and enter a long slumber. Instead, my thumb got the better of my conscience and pressed the glaring red name under ‘recent calls’; Mom.

In that moment, she could have held the record for fastest answered call in the universe, that mother of mine. “ _Vanessa!_ ” Her voice came rampant from the other end of the line, “I have been calling non-stop! I thought something had happened to you.”

“I had to stay late at work, Mom.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, still unable to open my eyes. “My phone died.”

My mother chose to gloss over this reasonable statement of facts and began to ramble on incessantly, “I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it, I knew it. You’re too far away from me. You’re out there all alone…What if something happens to you?”

“Mom,” I began.

“How am I supposed to get to you? You could be robbed; you could be raped…” She pressed on.

“Mom,”

“You could get _murdered!_ ”

“Mom!” I sat fully upwards now, snapping into my phone, “Stop! That’s not going to happen! I’m fine, and you watch too much Joe Kenda!”

She was finally quiet for a moment, mulling over her words. I rested back into the couch and listened to the sound of static over the connection. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, “I worry, Nessa, I really do.”

“I know, Mom. I get it. I’m being safe, really, I am. Look, I’m super tired. Can I call you tomorrow?” My head was beginning to throb.

“Okay, honey. Get some sleep. Call me first thing when you wake up.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“And if you need me at all during the night, call me, okay?

“Okay, Mom.”

“No matter what time it is, don’t hesitate.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Even if its three A.M., I don’t care.”

“ _Mom._ ”

“Alright, alright!” She sounded as exasperated as I was. “Goodnight, I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

“Don’t forget to lock your doors. Lock them, right now.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of my head. “I already did, okay? Bye, Mom.”

I heard her reluctant goodbye before pressing swiftly on the ‘end call’ button. She worried too much; I wasn’t a child anymore. Still, as I sat there I couldn’t help but turn my head and glance toward the front door, just to make sure it was actually locked.

The next few hours consisted of my usual nighttime routine. I turned on the T.V., which just so happened to be playing _Homicide Hunter_. I stared at Joe Kenda for a moment while he gravely explained his experience catching one of many gruesome killers. I switched the channel.

Dinner was pretty routine as well, I binged on chips and cookies before guilting myself into making a proper salad. I unenthusiastically stabbed at the lettuce with my fork and shoved it into my mouth with disdain. _Maybe it’s the dressing,_ I thought. _Ranch just isn’t cutting it anymore._ Afterward, I left the dishes in a clutter at the bottom of the sink and filled up a nice tall glass of cabernet sauvignon as a reward for my vegetable consumption. I marveled at the rich burgundy color that swirled along the inside of the tumbler. This wine was so cheap; it would have been just as well suited for a plastic cup. But it got the job done nonetheless, and that’s all I cared about. Back on the couch, I draped my favorite throw over my legs and nestled into a comfortable position to watch some trash reality show before bed.

I don’t remember when I had dozed off, but I woke with a start. My head lurched up from its resting spot on the back of the couch, and my knees began to uncurl from my chest. _What was that?_ I thought, trying to furiously blink fatigue from my eyes. I began to look around the living room, searching for the source of the noise. The area was pretty dim, with the only light coming from the foyer and… _The T.V._ I mentally smacked my forehead. _Duh!_ It must have been noise from the show. It was no longer the show I had fallen asleep to, however. A rundown of _E! News_ was the current airing. This made me frown. I didn’t think a news show would make the kind of sound I heard. The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand on edge. I shook the feeling off and reached for the remote. It was well past midnight, and I needed to sleep in a proper bed.

That’s when I heard it again. Clearer this time, there was no mistaking it. It came from behind me. _Creak._ My head turned on a swivel, and I stared down the empty hallway toward the stairs. My brow creased, and my shoulders tensed. I began to twist my body toward the sound, and consequently knocked over the half-empty wine glass with my hand. The sound of it hitting the hardwood floor was percussive enough to make me almost jump out of my skin. I looked down at it and cussed. It hadn’t broken, but there was wine everywhere. I bent over to pick up the tumbler and heard it again. That creaking sound. It was closer this time.

I abandoned the glass and stood upright immediately. I turned my back against the T.V. and squeezed the throw in my hands. My eyes searched through the darkness of the house, scrutinizing the corners of the living room. My brain tried to make a logical justification; _I’m just tired. I’m only hearing things. Calm down, Nessa. Calm down._ My heart rate, however, continued to increase. Call it a sixth sense, but I just felt something in the air. Something was wrong. My mouth opened, as if to call out, “Hello?”, but I forced my jaw shut. Instead, I began to inch away from the couch. I felt like I was wading through sludge, the way my legs dragged me along the path toward my front door. I was more than halfway along, before I had the urge to look back at the couch.

There, my phone lay face down, still connected to the charger. I could have cried. No part of me wanted to go back for it, but I knew I had to. It would have been stupid of me to try to leave without it. I tried to move faster this time, skirting along the hardwood floor in my socks. It seemed to take forever…but after an eternity of traveling I was finally close enough to reach out and grab my cell. I flipped it over and peered into the black screen. I saw my own reflection peer back; tired skin stretched out around fearful, round eyes. My focus shifted a fraction, and there it was. The source of the noise.

A large, dark figure loomed over me from the other side of the couch. Eyes squinted into mine through the reflection of the screen. I reared upright and came face to face with a black ski mask. A yellow toothed grin flashed at me in acknowledgment. My body flushed with fear; ice ran through my veins and twisted my gut. My body began to move on its own – my brain was still in disbelief. I took a single step back from the full-statured man dressed in all black. He reached out a gloved hand and grabbed at my arm, gripping it with immense strength.

“Where you going, kitten?” His voice came like an unnatural predatory growl.

Body and mind came together in that moment, and every ounce of adrenaline available came pouring out of me. I made no response but wrenched my arm out of his clutches and darted toward the foyer. My breath came heavy and rasping from my chest as I scrambled to the wall hook where my keys were. I could feel him behind me, coming after me. _Can I make it to the door in time?_ I didn’t think so. I turned the corner instead, making my way around the kitchen and toward the staircase. I heard him laughing. A sick, throaty crow that sent a chill up my spine and left me feeling gutted as I scrambled around in the darkness.

“Ready or not, here I come!” He taunted.

I raced up the stairs, wildly wondering which room to take shelter in. Not my own bedroom, he would certainly find me in there. Not the hallway bathroom either, it was so small. I swerved right and headed toward the guest room. I could not hear him on the stairs yet, so I took a chance by closing and locking the door before swirling around, looking for the best place to hide. _The closet? No._ My mind was sprinting through options, _Should I try to jump? It’s too high! If I break my leg he’ll definitely catch me. What if I scream? Will the neighbors hear? They’re so far away –_

A muffled groan from the compression of wood broke me out of my thoughts. He was on the stairs. I dived for the floor and flung myself under the bed. There was a dust ruffle around the perimeter that would conceal me from view. _How did he get in?_ I felt my body shaking, _how long has he been here?_ I realized I was gasping for air, and I clamped my hands over my mouth, willing myself to regulate my breathing.

I could hear the thud of his boots down the hallway, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

 _Breathe, Nessa, just breathe._ Now would have been the perfect opportunity to call 911. I reached in my pocket for my phone and, _No!_ It wasn’t there. I must have dropped it downstairs when I first saw him. My eyes began to bulge out of my head. I had no way to contact help, and with no weapon I was defenseless against him. The footsteps grew louder. He was about to come into the room.

“ _Meow,_ ” He was jiggling the door handle, “Are you in here, kitten?”

My fingernails dug into the sides of my face. With a loud crack, he broke open the door and stepped through. Every muscle in me wanted to run, but I remained still against the cold hardwood floor. He made a _tch, tch, tch_ noise as he traveled along the room. Blood was roaring in my ears so loud I was afraid it would give my location away. I heard the squeak of rusted hinges as he swung open the closet, and then closed it again.

“Oh, kitten,” His cloying voice came suddenly from the foot of the bed. “Why don’t you come out and _play!_ ”

I felt something seize the backs of my ankles. My body began to slide out from under the bed. My nails dug into the floor, leaving fruitless marks in wake of a horrid scratching. Someone was screaming at the top of their lungs and it reverberated in my ear drums. I didn’t realize in that moment that the sound was coming from me. I twisted my body around to face him as he towered over me. I tried to kick my way out of his grasp, but he had me now and he wasn’t letting go. His mouth was open, and his body shook as if he was laughing maniacally – I couldn’t hear over my hair-raising shrieks. He dragged me along out of the room and made his way back down the hall. Tears sprung from my eyes, and I began to plead,

“No!” The words came choking out of me, “P-Please! Please, don’t!”

A thought came into my head. Something I witnessed on _Homicide Hunter. ‘Make yourself appear as a real person to a killer. Give them specifics about your life. Humanize yourself._ ’

Steeling myself, I stared up at this terrifying man, “My name,” I cried, “is Vanessa Hart!”

He looked down at me and our eyes locked. The irises protruding through his eye slits were an ugly, putrid, green color. I continued on, “I’m 26 years old! I work for Sterling and Smith’s as an accountant! I have an older sister, and older brother, a mom, a dad; they all love me, and I love them!”

I began to desperately list off anything I could think of, “One day, I want to get married, have children, get a dog and name it –”

“Shut up.” He snarled, cutting me off.

“I want to _live!_ ” I howled’.

“Shut your mouth!” He jerked my legs forward and leaned in close, “Shut up! Shut up!”

Even under the mask I could tell that his face was contorted. I just pissed him off. I knew then that there was no way he would ever see me as another human being. I wasn’t going down without a fight. I lunged upward, latching myself onto his shoulders. I pulled the neckline of his hoodie away and sunk my teeth into his skin. I heard him holler in pain and proceeded to shove my hand up the back of his shirt. I dug my nails into his flesh and scraped as hard as I could. I felt a few of them break off under the pressure, but I didn’t give up. I would make sure there was enough of his DNA on me to indisputably identify him. Then, I drew my head back and came smashing down into his nose. I felt his blood slather my forehead, and a slew of curses sprang from his mouth. He grabbed me by my armpits and forced his eyes open through the pain.

“You bitch!” He spat in my face, saturating me with blood and spit. He turned on his feet and swung me around.

I hadn’t realized how close we were to the staircase until he hurled me over the edge. I went toppling down, somersaulting over myself until I landed in a heap of agony at the bottom. Pain splintered through my hip and down my thigh, and my arm gave out when I tried to push myself upright. My head was spinning, but I managed to focus my attention back up at him.

Suddenly, I was staring down the barrel of a gun. The man was only halfway down the stairs, but the muzzle of the revolver seemed much closer. When he spoke again, his voice was shaking with rage,

“Now, kitten,” He threatened, “I don’t want to have to use this…don’t _make_ me use this. I want to have fun playing with you while you’re _alive_.”

Newfound fear in the form of a whimper escaped my body as I forced myself to crawl over to the nearest wall. Using it as a brace, I propelled myself upward, and began to limp toward the kitchen. Pain seared through all of my fibers, but I kept going. I didn’t look behind me, but I could hear him making a slow descent down the rest of the stairs. He was taking his time, probably reveling in the fact that I was now injured prey. I was a wounded animal, making its last desperate attempts at survival. I crept along the counter, past the cabinet with the pots and pans. Those wouldn’t help me now. What I really needed was…

 _A knife!_ I threw open the furthest drawer to my left and sifted through it. It was too dark to see, but my fingers felt around for the biggest one I could find. Finally, I gripped the hilt of a chef’s knife and drew it out before me. Out in the open, the blade glistened with what little moonlight came through the window, and I turned to face my attacker. He was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, the revolver by his side.

“Listen here, kitten,” He began, “You don’t want to do that. Put it down.”

“Fuck you,” I hissed at him, fear and anger mixing inside of me. It was no gun, but I was armed now. I had to prop myself up against the edge of the counter for stability, and I widened my stance in anticipation of what he would do next.

He did just what I thought he would. He rushed me, gun still by his side, and attempted to seize the knife. I raised it above my head and brought it down diagonally across his body. The knife sliced along his outstretched arm and the front of his hoodie, cutting forcefully through the fabric and into his stomach. He cried out, and I ducked out from under him. Ignoring every painful outcry in my body, I half-ran, half-crawled toward the foyer. I was less than ten feet away from the door, gaining purchase in my escape, when I felt him lunge at me from behind. His arms closed around my torso, pinning my limbs down to my sides. I felt the wetness of his blood stain the back of my blouse as I struggled against him, screaming as loud as I could. He took me down to the floor, using his body weight to crush the air out of me and silence me. I no longer felt any pain – just fear in its rawest form. From this close I could smell the stench of the sweat protruding from his body, mixed with the heat of his breath on my face. He grabbed my shoulders on either side; the hilt of the gun dug into my skin.

My eyes widened with the realization that while he may still have his gun, I still had my knife. I forced it up as far as my arm could go and turned the point on him. His grip on me tightened, and he lifted the upper half of my body from the ground.

“No, no, no!” He hollered, slamming me back down into the floor. The force of the collision between my cervical spine and the hardwood made the knife fall out of my hand and clatter beside us. My eyes fluttered as he lifted me back up, and when he hammered me down again my vision began to get fuzzy. I knew I wouldn’t last much longer, I could feel warm liquid running down the back of my neck. _This is it, Vanessa._ I thought, _this is do or die._ I gathered the remaining ounces of grit inside me and palmed him in his bloody nose. He recoiled in pain, and I seized my opportunity to make a grab for the gun. I punched the revolver out of his hand and snatched it up before he could retrieve it. Blood roared in my ears again, my heart pounding through every inch of my being. I saw him yelling, although I couldn’t hear it. I stuck the barrel right into his enormous, heaving chest. I sucked in a breath of air and squeezed my eyes shut. I thought to myself, _I’m going to live,_ and pulled the trigger.

The boom that resonated through the air left me disoriented. Smoke residue filled my lungs, and there was a pain in the center of my own chest from the recoil. I opened my eyes and saw that my thumb was split open as well. My attacker was motionless above me, and for a moment I feared he was still alive. Then, he came crashing down on top of me, the full force of his dead weight made me cry out. I tried to roll him over, but he was too heavy. Tears welled up in my eyes and rolled furiously down my face as I sobbed. Eventually I was able to push him up enough to drag my body out from underneath. I lay weary on my back and stared at the heap of his body out of the corner of my eye. I tried to sit up, and to my dismay, there was a hilt protruding from my abdomen; the knife.

My breath quickened as I watched the growing puddle of blood spill out from the wound. I laid back down and stared at the ceiling, feeling my breath struggle more and more in my lungs. My body began to finally give out on me. A series of lights began to flicker from the outside. Red. Blue. _Could it be?_

I felt the iron taste of blood pooling in the back of my mouth. My senses, which were so heightened before, were becoming static in response to the sounds around me. Someone came through the door. Then others. Flashlights beamed around me, shining painfully in my eyes. I could barely see them as my vision was accompanied by splotches of black. A man crouched down beside me – he was wearing a uniform.

“Ma’am, I’m Officer Brandon. Can you hear me?” His voice was muffled, like he was speaking through a pillow. “Ma’am?”

I stared at the blurry outline of his body. I tried to nod in response, but I wasn’t sure if it actually happened. My hand instinctively traveled toward him, though, and I felt my fingers barely brush against his knee. My eyes were getting tired, and everything was starting to hurt more and more. I just wanted to go to sleep.

“Stay with me ma’am! Don’t close your eyes! Where’s that damn ambulance?!” Officer Brandon’s voice was farther away now.

I tried to close my fingers around him and pull him in. _Don’t let me die, please,_ I thought, _not after all this._ My mouth wouldn’t form the words. I felt his hands compress against the weeping wound in my stomach. Everything was getting tougher now; keep my eyes open, breathe, everything. My body felt like it was sinking into the floor, ready to finally rest. My lids fluttered one last time before my eyes rolled into the back of my head and it all went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought of it below.


End file.
